


Love in the Face of Constant Conflict

by Markath



Category: MAY Karl - Works, Winnetou - Karl May
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Western
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-16 02:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7248544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Markath/pseuds/Markath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the movie "Winnetou and the Crossbreed (1966)", Winnetou and his brother Old Shatterhand have a talk which will lead to other things while they fight for the peace between red and white men...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A talk

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  A warmhearted and huge thank you, _justayellowumbrella_. You go wherever I go!!!
> 
> And a thank you, _Regenengel_.  
>  And _Mikisna_ , for your wonderful "Night Flight (Winnetou/Old Shatterhand)" video, which can be found on youtube.
> 
> A German version is now posted on fanfiktion.de ("Liebe in konfliktreichen Zeiten").
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own or make any money from Karl May's works and movies.

It was late evening when we had the chance to pull back at a camp fire indian style.  
Winnetou was the first one to keep watch, and I was looking after our horses, whom we had to thank once more for our lives. While I was taking care of them, Winnetou had just started his first big round around the camp fire.  
One part of our group had already turned to sleep, only Sam Hawkens, Dick the western poet and our English friend Lord Castlepool had a talk.  
For the first time I could allow myself to think about what had happened before. Once again, tramps had had the power to change a little western town into a place full of fear and terror, and how many more existed where we couldn’t reach out and help?  
But in this town, Rocky Town, Winnetou and I had the people encouraged to defend themselves and no mob would ever gain another foothold there.  
I thought of Ms. Bessy, the Saloon Lady, and her participation. Her choice to stay there and to help her girls to continue, being responsible for all. She was the ‘heart’ of the saloon, so to speak, and the first address to turn to for all the railroad workers nearby.  
Our goodbye was spoken in German, and she had me embraced and even gave a kiss. I knew she saw me as the son she never had so I had allowed it but I remembered the questioning look of my red brother Winnetou in the back of my mind. Knowing him to be the most sensitive person I had ever met, I assumed he felt what this was all about. Or not? Looking back I realized when he turned away, there was no smile on his beautiful face, only a quick motionless gaze.  
Since then, I noticed my Winnetou more quiet than before. He wasn’t a man of many words - only important ones - but there was rarely one he spoke with his wonderful dark voice.  
After we chased the tramps away successfully, I had been invited to an evening in the Saloon with Bessy for singing, dancing, celebrating and of course drinking. For the sake of the settlers and railroad workers I spent the night there while Winnetou brought our young friends Apanachi and her brother Happy home and returned to the village of the Apache Indians.  
I had noted his yearning look after me, but I had decided to not force him into an evening in the Saloon full of singing and drunk people where I preferred to stay in the background, too. Sam and Dick - who sang with all their heart, not always following the right sheet music to my big amusement - enjoyed Bessy’s German song repertoire and the drinks nevertheless.  
I didn’t know if it came from me being a little homesick and also longing for the peace back of the old days, wanting to have that moment for myself, without the sharp eyes of my blood brother on me, who noticed _everything_ concerning me.  
And because I had started to realize that my usually restless soul _finally_ \- after staying already a month - felt at home, here, beside Winnetou, in his country, and beside his most powerful determination to maintain the peace between white and red men at any cost.  
Seeing him again, after nearly one year of separation (which I had prolonged, had not the desire for coming back to him predominated, along with the feeling he really needed me and seemed to call for me across the ocean) made me open my eyes to how much I had missed my brother.  
Unfortunately we hadn’t had a chance to catch up with our lives so far.  
Which I was planning to do _now_. And asking him quite frankly why he had chosen to remain more silent since the night at the Saloon.  
Determined, I climbed the little hill where Winnetou had positioned himself to have a better viewpoint for watching over our camp and sat down next to him.

“My brother may tell me why he prefers to be quiet these recent days?”  
He didn’t turn to me at once and stayed silent. I could watch his beautiful face, the long black hair, but he betrayed nothing.  
Finally I got a reaction.  
“What exactly does Scharlih want to know?”  
I didn’t expect his counter question.  
“Is there a reason for it?”  
Now he smiled his wonderful little smile I had come to love.  
“My brother Scharlih needn’t to worry that Winnnetou is more silent than he’s used to. - I’m thinking about passed years.”  
“Passed years?”   
I was a little shocked, aware of the extended time I had taken away from him, back in my home country. A separation taken perhaps too long, which explained my sudden guilty conscience. I had always taken for granted that everything would stay the exact same way I left it behind, and would be the same way when I returned. But the last incident – especially the sudden death of Mac Haller, our friend - had taught me otherwise.  
The situation overran me. The events taking place in the little western town, along with Ms. Bessy, reminded me of my past. How I had once been an engineer working for the Railroad company. How my friendship with Sam Hawkens and later with Winnetou began. What a greenhorn I had been, then. And how easy to handle situations like this had been for me, not knowing these would continue and continue and never stop. The time between those events more and more shortened, getting lesser and less for taking a so much needed deep breath.  
Winnetou had obviously observed me for some time, because he meant instead: “My brother, too, is concerned...about the welfare of the settlers and the railroad workers?”  
I tried to stop my rattling train of thoughts and nodded. I knew by myself all too well that my blood brother had to fight and to deal with those things every day to maintain the fragile peace. And had to be _strong_ for all the others.  
He squeezed my hand.  
“They will succeed.” He said softly while watching carefully the horizon. “They learned from this experience.”  
My look must have still been doubtful because Winnetou first glanced sideways to me and seemed to pull himself together, then.  
“Since we speak of the settlers…I’d like to know _something_.” Shortly, he hesitated. “What does the saloon woman Ms. Bessy mean to my brother Scharlih?” He asked low.  
I was completely taken by surprise. Winnetou queried after Bessy? Why, for God’s sake?  
“What do you want to know about Bessy?” I asked him at once.  
He just shook his head, looking straight ahead, musing, quiet.  
I was used to his pauses in our talks, but this time a part in me wanted to know what kind of thoughts my beautiful brother had in mind. Tenderly, I squeezed his hand back.  
“Tell me, brother, I need to know.”  
I couldn’t catch his mood as I had so often succeeded in, before, which made me almost feeling helpless. I always knew his answer in my head before he even spoke, but recently, there was sometimes a wall between us, a wall I hadn’t built. A wall I couldn’t explain. Nor understand.  
“Winnetou…?!” I repeated therefore, questioning.  
He sighed, looked at me with his dark brown eyes, _inscrutable_ , and spoke, at last.  
“You remember the moment when Ms. Bessy came to warn us and we talked about the exit of the tunnel under the town? You just went ahead and I wanted to follow you when she hold me back.”  
“And?”  
My confusion was obviously written on my face. What was this about, Bessy talking to Winnetou?  
He hesitated again.  
“She begged me to take care of you.”  
“Bessy is always a caring person.” I answered him dryly.  
Winnetou sighed.   
“Scharlih, it had been the manner she begged me. _As if_ …” He fell silent.  
“As if…?” I tried to make him complete the sentence, already getting impatient. I hadn’t caught the whole significance of this incidence, yet.  
I knew that Bessy liked me a lot, but it was due to the circumstances that we came from the same country and that I had saved her life, once.  
“…there is _more_ to connect you both? Was? - You stayed the whole night at the Saloon.”  
Winnetou had admitted his assumption and I could see that he still fought with himself whether it was the right thing to do.  
Because we left private matters out of a lot of our discussions, I was taken aback. What else had happened that brought my brother to ask this kind of question? He, who was never one of asking too much, at least not concerning human interactions?  
I decided to clear the air and put on a small smile.  
“My brother may not bother himself further.” I teased him, but he just continued to look at me. What might run through his mind? His reaction wasn’t what I had expected. To laugh with me together and to make a joke? But he remained silent and it made me suddenly very _unsettled_.  
I cleared my throat, suddenly defensive.  
“Bessy and me...are kind of old friends. We are from the same country.” I told him.  
Winnetou nodded and added: “I heard you were both talking in German.”  
I wasn't sure if I hadn't heard a little innuendo in his voice. If so, why?  
“You see, my brother, this is the strong connection we share.” I said in a serious and earnest way.  
“Because she's such a caring person and she knows you are the one who spends the most time with me...that's what makes her request plausible, isn't it?”  
I made a short pause and added: “Also I think I am the son she could never have, that's why she turned to you. - She sang German songs for us at the Saloon's evening.” And I also felt the need to say, blushing: “I thought the noise and the crowd and lots of alcohol wouldn't suit my brother...that's why I didn't ask you to come with me. - I beg not only for your forbearance, Winnetou, but for your pardon as well.” 

I truly had underestimated that he had wanted to go with me, obviously. And if that had been the case, he surely wouldn't have asked this question about Bessy's request, right?  
But again, I couldn't pinpoint _what exactly_ went through the beautiful head of my brother.  
Looking back, I realize what a greenhorn I still was. Clueless. Yes, in retrospect I reproached myself that I had been so unaware of his innuendo and had answered him that naively. But at this time, the conclusions hadn't yet been made.  
We hadn't the chance to continue our conversation because all of a sudden, a single rider was seen on the horizon. We both jumped to our feet while a call came from below.  
“Behold. Who's coming?”


	2. Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N**
> 
> A huge thank you again, _justayellowumbrella_!!!
> 
> And a thank you for all comments!

We realized that the rider - who finally approached our camp, now down to walking pace - was one of the railroad workers from nearby Rocky Town which made us drop the weapons. He looked like someone who had rushed to get here.  
Did something happen _there_ again? I had a bad premonition, but it turned out to be something different...  
The railroad worker, clearly looking for me, had stopped his horse, gotten down and fallen at his knees right in front of me.  
“Mr. Shatterhand. I beg you to return to Rocky Town! We really need your help!”  
As fast as I could I took him by his arms and pulled him back to his feet.  
“No need to kneel before me.” I said to him in a kind, but determined way. I watched him thoroughly. “You are Mr. Stevenson, one of the engineers, aren't you?”  
He panted a little due to his hasty ride but he tried to collect himself.  
“Yes, that's me.” He answered and inhaled deeply. “Not that long ago after you were leaving Rocky Town, there was a big wagon trek arriving.”  
“A wagon trek? From where?” I repeated, shaking my head. _That_ definitely did not sound like good news.  
Winnetou, Sam Hawkens and all the others came close by and followed the discussion with heightened attention.  
“Yes.” Stevenson nodded. “We wondered, too, at this time of the year, but they told us they came from St. Louis and wanted to reach Santa Fe. They begged us for our help because they were followed.”  
“Followed?” I asked with some doubt in my voice. “By white or red men?”  
Stevenson just looked regretful.  
“I'm sorry I can't tell you anything further. Because there is not much left from the town anyway, the locals first wanted to send them away immediately, but some of the wagons are damaged, there are sick people onboard and the settlers expected our protection. Since we aren't much use to them, we were thinking...”  
“To tell them about us.” I replied dryly. “I do understand.”  
Winnetou, who had been vigilant as ever, now asked him: “A wagon trek needs our protection? Why? We are still on Apache ground.”  
The railroad engineer simply shrugged his shoulders and smiled regretfully, again. “We hoped you would speak to them because they are so desperate and in need of someone who knows the area. - And apart from that, Ms. Bessy sends me, Mr. Shatterhand.” He said earnestly, turning to me.  
That's why, I told myself. None other than Bessy could have had the idea of sending after us for help.

And there it was again, the mentioning of _her name_ , which had just fallen in the private talk between my blood brother and me. But a short sideways glance betrayed nothing in his beautiful face, which was slightly illuminated by the last twilight and our camp fire.  
“Let me shortly consult my companions, Mr. Stevenson, but I am willing to believe that we will ride back with you as you requested.”  
I already had taken a look around and had seen that all of our group had nodded and signaled me that they agreed with my decision. The five railroad workers who accompanied us and we were to bring to the next railroad station for their new job wanted to return with us, too. But I wasn't very glad about it because first, they would slow us down and second, they weren't needed back in Rocky Town. Maybe I could ask Winnetou to take them to their final destination with the help of some of his red brothers.  
The one, thought of, had given me a cautious smile, but it made me nevertheless happy, because it meant he would come along and I'd rather be with him, to be honest.   
We discussed very shortly the necessary things to do but we all agreed in a quick breakup for the sake of the settlers and the people of Rocky Town. If we were to learn more from the settlers themselves, we all would share an accurate picture of the general status quo. That's how our initially planned travel found a quick end.  
Finally, I turned to our late guest who waited patiently for us to decide what to do.  
“Mr. Stevenson, we will immediately ride with you. - Do you feel enough strength in you for the way back, in the darkness?” I asked him then. Since he nodded, we began to pack all our stuff together.  
I must admit I suddenly became nervous, caring for Bessy. That she was the one who had sent someone after us meant there was necessity behind it... and a serious reason for concern. So could I repay her now for saving the two children of Mac Haller, Apanachi and Happy, from Curly-Bill and his gang?   
Probably, every second counted.  
And what was this wagon trek story about? Why, for God's sake, was this one on its way here? We were already in the hands of late summer, a hot one, but the weather was well known here to change from one minute to another. And what kind of danger awaited us again? Particularly, when I had started to believe we were overdue for another deep breath... I had imagined our ride to the next railroad station being very enjoyable. I had hoped to have my blood brother a little bit for myself, especially after this talk... and now, everything was changing.  
I tried to act as calmly as I could, but I propelled all the others to hurry, so Winnetou – always sensing my mood – put a hand on my arm in the end and told me in his warm, but earnest voice: “Scharlih won't be too late. We will ride first since we own the fastest horses. I will stay by your side. Howgh!”  
I was more than grateful for his help and his foresight and his will to support me everywhere, as if he would feel that personal matters – in this case, Bessy - were at stake. And how much more I loved him for that, knowing too well that Bessy had been the main problem in our talk just some minutes before.   
My stallion Hatatitla was saddled and ready and I had informed Sam Hawkens about our plan to go ahead. Sam, who seemed to know about my pressing concern because of Ms. Bessy, squeezed my hand in a heartfelt way.  
“You will solve the problem, if I'm not mistaken, hihihi. - I'm confident you ride on first with Winnetou, so I will take care of the rest of us and follow you as fast as we can.” Was all he said to me, but it was enough to calm me down, too.  
And then, we left our wonderful camp fire just as quickly as we had found it.

I would have wanted to continue my talk with Winnetou, but the events took it out of our hands. While we were riding as fast as possible, talking was impossible as well, and a feeling told me to hurry and drove me onwards. And my sensible blood brother felt it all, because he rode just right in front of me in his usual silent way and tried to find for the two of us the best and fastest way in the darkness to reach Rocky Town in good time.  
After we hurried through the night, thanks to the full moon, we arrived the half rebuilt parts of Rocky Town in the early morning. Since the settlers were all up and working, we were recognized at once and urged to the still intact saloon, whereas in front of the house, Winnetou shook his head and wished me to understand that he were to take care of our tired horses for the time being.  
Upon entering, Bessy greeted me warmly and urged me to sit and have breakfast, including freshly brewed coffee. Glad to realize that my worries had been without reason, I took her offer with pleasure, tired from the concentrated riding through the night, but asked in return to be told about the new problems in Rocky Town – since Bessy had sent Mr. Stevenson after us - especially concerning the arrival of the trek. I had already noticed five damaged wagons at the blacksmith's shop at the end of the main street.  
So Bessy called for Mr. Butler, who managed the 27 wagon trek, and after my first cup of coffee, he entered the Saloon and came to my table.  
I stood up, we shook hands, and I started to like him immediately because he had a firm grip. Big, stout and solid, he gave the impression of a western scout who understood his ways and especially the ways of the American West.  
“Good morning. You must be Old Shatterhand.”  
“I am.” I answered him and invited him to sit down with me.  
He did, and replied to me: “I didn't mean to interrupt your breakfast. Sorry. Please go ahead.”  
I nodded and smiled. “Thank you. I really would like to know more about your wagon trek in the meantime. - Ms. Bessy asked us to come back, and for our service to help you specifically.”  
Now he smiled, too. “Yes, I came to appreciate your Ms. Bessy a lot. She was the one who helped and encouraged us in every possible way so far.”  
Bessy, who came upon hearing this, smiled as well. “I only did what every human being would do: help those who are in need of it.” She simply said in her wonderful husky voice and placed another cup of coffee in front of Mr. Butler, who thanked her.  
“Well.” I began again, smiling after her. “About your wagon trek...”  
“Yes, yes.” Mr. Butler answered and turned back to me. It was obvious that Bessy had impressed him, which made me continue smiling.  
“That's not a long story. We started in Westport. We, that means thirty wagons including their passengers and package, and ten of them with trade goods from Mr. Bradley and his companion Mr. Brent. Mr. Graham, another western scout, and myself manage the trek, and we had ten soldiers as protection given by because we also transport goods for the military in Fort Union, but we already lost half of them and three of our wagons due to fights. So our final goal is the Fort and Santa Fe, then.”   
After a sip from the coffee, he continued. “We followed the Santa Fe trail, and somewhere in between, we felt pursued. It turned out to be a gang of tramps who somehow had learned that we transported not only goods, but gold, too. So they chased us. And they just didn't want to give up. We were forced to go a long way round and leave the trail, and then we lost track of the Canadian river after another fight with them in the open prairie where we lost three of the wagons and five of our accompanying soldiers. We also had another encounter with the Kiowas, but we could leave them behind after traveling day and night with increased speed so I don't know how, we finally ended up here after not seeing a town for over one week.”   
He made a short pause. “I was first thinking about staying here and sending the soldiers ahead to the Fort Union to call for help... and here comes Lieutenant Hedges...” he interrupted shortly, nodding to the soldier who just entered the Saloon, “but your Ms. Bessy told us about you and since the Lieutenant didn't want to leave us behind – well, here we are.”

Mr. Butler stood and introduced the serious and very formal soldier who had approached our table.  
“Lieutenant Hedges, this is Old Shatterhand, the famous frontiersman whom Ms. Bessy had spoken of.”  
I got an official nod and was scrutinized from head to toe. “Yes, I know what your Ms. Bessy has told us.” He said and it was clear that he was not a fan of her. Soldiers were often very skeptical concerning the female folks and their opinion, I had learned. And Mr. Hedges seemed no exception.  
Did I want to help this soldier? The answer was no. But it was clear that Mr. Butler already counted on me, and to be honest, I wanted at least to help _him_. And the wagon trek seemed to need it because otherwise they wouldn't have ended up here, in Rocky Town. Far away from their original route. And judging by the nearness of the fall, they were in big trouble should they not arrive at the Fort and Santa Fe in the next weeks. With Winnetou by my side who knew the area by heart we had a big chance to make up for lost time. And perhaps avoid another danger. My mind was set, and I knew I could always count on my blood brother. So I stood and turned to both men.  
“Ms. Bessy wanted to help and so do I, Mr. Hedges. Do we have an agreement, then, Mr. Butler?”  
The last one I had spoken to started to smile again. “Mr. Shatterhand! You really will accompany us?”  
I nodded. “Yes. We will take you to Santa Fe. My blood brother Winnetou will guide us. Via the Fort Union, if that's alright with the Lieutenant.”  
Mr. Hedges didn't answer immediately and I guessed he was a little bit upset because he wasn't really convinced that they were in need of our help. But I did nothing to tell him of my presumptions which should prove to be true, later. Finally, he decided to give in and nodded, too.  
“It is alright with me and my soldiers.” He answered and that settled the matter.  
But when we turned to go, he stopped me. “Winnetou.” He said, questioning. “Is that a red man?”  
I looked at him, surprised, almost amused. “Yes, he is the chief of the Apaches.” And in a very dry tone, I added: “He knows the area by heart because it is their territory. So he's the best guide you could ever wish for.”  
“You trust an Indian?” The question was asked before he could hold himself back.  
“With my life.” Was all I replied, now in a sharp tone, wondering, where this soldier came from and suspecting that wasn't the last word we had about this. And then I left the Saloon after thanking Bessy for the coffee and the breakfast, looking for Winnetou and our horses.

He was not that far, just around the house, where a place for the horses was built, and waited obviously for me.  
“My brother Scharlih wants to help the wagon trek.” Was all he noticed after watching my face.  
“And I hope my red brother will help _me_.” I smiled and told him about my talk with Mr. Butler and mentioned Lieutenant Hedges.  
“Uff, the wagon trek is protected by soldiers?” Winnetou exclaimed, surprised.  
I explained why, added that it seemed to me that they weren't experienced and that some outstanding guidance was required from us to arrive safe and sound in Santa Fe.  
While we were waiting for Sam and the others to arrive, we took a little nap next to our horses., enjoying the quiet of the stables behind the Saloon. Initially, I was thinking about a continuation of our talk from yesterday, but refrained from it, seeing that Winnetou was looking tired – we hadn't slept much the night before either – and feeling that we required another time to resume talking privately. Maybe this adventure along with the slow pace of the wagon trek would provide us with the intimate moment sought between us. Among this comforting thought, I slept.  
Around high noon, Sam and the others came in a slow trot but with good intention. Mary, Sam's mule, hobbled, so he took it to the blacksmith's shop for a new horseshoe and the problem was solved. While they had lunch at the Saloon, I took the liberty of inspecting the trek and its people who were glad to learn that their journey continued, accompanied by some 'new scouts'. It was obvious that they all wanted to go on, like us, of course.  
So it was late afternoon before everything was settled and we could start, the wagons all in line. Winnetou and me at the top, Mr. Butler and Mr. Graham, Sam and Dick and Lord Castlepool stayed somewhere in the middle of the trek and the soldiers were the rear guard.  
I prayed that everything would go well and then, we were leaving Rocky Town again. But this time, I was sure, for a longer period. I said goodbye to Bessy in between and wished her the best, earning another goodbye kiss, but I didn't know exactly why this time it didn't touch me the way it had touched me before. Maybe because not knowing what to expect from this journey, I had focused instead on the happy occurrence that Winnetou would come with me and I wasn't alone. 

And because I suddenly felt that _he_ could need _my_ protection, which for the first time was not the other way round: _he_ always protected _me_.


End file.
